Heat: Redux
by encanta
Summary: A companion piece to Heat from Deeks' point of view. Jason Wyler/Tracey. PWP.


**AN: This is a companion piece to Heat, as requested on LJ. Unfortunately, I'm not inclined to delve any deeper into this verse. That said, I hope you enjoy Deeks' perspective!**

The Office of Special Projects is way different than downtown at the LAPD, which makes sense – things are far nicer when you have federal funding. Marty Deeks is a little miffed at how nice off these NCIS kids have it and his brain's chugging along in that pouty direction until another woman walks into the bullpen, a bit bubblier than he ever thought she'd be.

Wait a second. Deeks hadn't expected to see her face, ever again. Judging by the look on her face when she spots him, she hadn't been expecting to see him ever again, either.

Well, well, well. The plot thickens. Deeks should be alarmed, but he isn't (not that alarmed, at least).

Hetty introduces them and Deeks hears her name – her real name – but beyond that, he isn't really listening. Kensi looks panicked for a split second before she recovers and her eyes, those eyes he's a bit familiar with already, unbeknownst to the rest of the team, burn into him. Clearly she's remembering the evening they'd shared just yesterday. He is, too.

Dimarco Williams was no pushover. Deeks had been hurting when he'd slunk out of the ring, literally and figuratively. He didn't have much of a real ego (honestly!), but what was there was pretty damaged. This Dimarco guy had size, yeah, but _he_ had training. He was a cop, and no matter who said what, he knew he was pretty good at his job. He was a good fighter. But this guy had taken him down and now he'd lost what he'd been working for these past couple weeks, so when he stalked down the hall, Deeks was rightfully pissed off. It was at that point that he'd spotted Tracey, standing off to the side. Riiight. Like that was her real name. There was no reason for her to be here and the fact that she'd seen him get his ass kicked just incensed him more.

"Hey, Tracey," he greeted her, teeth grit. Deeks was mad, and so was Wyler, for different reasons. Wyler's pride was hurt, mostly. Her pretty mouth twisted into this little smirk and he just sort of lost it. Giving her some shitty excuse about wanting to talk about Zuna, he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her down the hallway, away from the fights and … people. There was this loose plan to figure her out, to tear her story apart and find out what she'd been doing in Zuna's apartment and why she was there now, but. Well. They were alone and the smirk, though it'd left her mouth, was still in her eyes. He caught a hint of her perfume, whatever it was, and Wyler sort of stepped up and shoved Deeks out of the way. Maybe he was a little too good at undercover, and putting his real self out of mind, for his own good.

His hands settled on Tracey's hips as he pinned her against the wall, and maybe he should have patted her down for a weapon or something, but that wasn't too conducive to fooling around. She inquired about Zuna and he rolled his eyes. Definitely Jason Wyler at the forefront of his headspace right now. Deeks cared about this case – Wyler didn't give a fuck about Zuna. He'd just wanted the spot. And right now? He wanted Tracey.

"We're not here to talk about Zuna, _Tracey_," he snapped, before leaning in to bite her throat without much preamble. He didn't bite hard enough to break the skin, but he did want to mark her. It wasn't like she seemed to mind, anyway – he felt her shift as she tilted her head, giving him better access. Deeks bit down harder in turn, pressing his body against hers and taking her give as a cue to continue on. His hand made its way down her body and he undid her jeans, slipping it into her pants easily and moving her panties aside to press his fingers into her. There was no time for gentle foreplay and Wyler wasn't the type of guy that was big on that, anyway. He pressed his fingers in and out of her, his hand very practiced. That was something Deeks was bringing to the table, at least. Tracey was tight around him and he closed his eyes as he worked his body, horribly aroused already. There was something about pleasing a woman (even a woman he barely knew, a woman he didn't trust at all) that turned him on. She was so pliant, too, despite being quiet, and why wouldn't she be? Tracey had made it clear that she was a slut or a party girl or whatever back at the apartment, what with the naked pictures (although he hadn't believed that shit) and the drugs.

"Good girl," he breathed into her ear when she came with a shudder. Deeks held her up, still sliding his fingers up into her as he helped her ride out her orgasm before reaching for a condom (inside his wallet, which was in a pocket on the inside of his pants – a cop thing, clearly). Tearing the foil, he pushed his pants and boxers out of the way and then slipped the condom on, entering her quickly.

God, she was tight. He'd groaned his approval right into her ear, keeping her pinned against the wall as he took her. Right now he was a bit at war with himself – he was generally a considerate lover, but he didn't have much reason to be gentle or considerate right now. He bucked into her quick and deep, biting and kissing at her neck appreciatively as her legs wrapped around his waist, allowing him to angle even deeper. It became apparent that Tracey didn't mind the pace at all – she was wet as hell around his cock and she kept letting out these tiny, breathless moans in his ear that only drove Deeks on.

When Tracey came again, he saw stars. He could feel her tighten around him, feel her muscles shuddering as he pleased her, and that moan right in his ear was his coming undone. That and her encouragement, a breathy plea of, "Come on, Wyler," and he was coming, burying himself deep inside her as his mind went momentarily blank. He'd laid his head against her, face buried in her neck, smelling her perfume as his orgasm subsided and his breath returned. Finally, he'd let her down and she'd dressed faster than any other girl he'd just had a quickie with. Props.

"Next time you bother me, tell me something useful. Like where the drugs are," she said, trying to sound stern, which didn't work out so well for her given that she was still a bit breathless. Deeks didn't blame her, though. Tracey split soon after that and he just had to laugh. Was that unprofessional? Yeah, probably. But he hadn't been worried about it. After all, at the very most, she was a criminal. At the least, she was some random girl. Or so he'd thought!

Coming back to the moment, Deeks grins at her and he doesn't miss the glare she shoots him. Ouch. Kensi. It's a cute name. Deeks doesn't know if he thinks it fits her yet. He doesn't know her well enough. He doesn't know her at _all_, actually, which is why it's awkward that he knows her body so intimately. One thing he does know is that he sure as hell has never started a partnership this way, before. Should be interesting, if nothing else.


End file.
